


never afraid (to die)

by gunblade



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Darkside AU, M/M, Medium Burn, Mutual Pining, angst and general hopelessness, like a sizzling kind of burn but not fast or slow, some humor and much romance, zarkon is winning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunblade/pseuds/gunblade
Summary: When Zarkon takes back the black lion, the Paladins of Voltron fall beneath the crushing weight of the Galra Empire. The universe bows before its almighty ruler. There's no one left to fight...That is, until the red and blue paladins escape their cell.





	1. they cannot detain us

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really proud of this, not gonna lie. it's taken me a few days to write this first chapter and i'm happy with how it's turned out so far. bear in mind that it moves quickly because it's almost purely action! pew pew.
> 
> my goal is to update this at least once every two weeks at minimum, preferably once a week. i work full time, so i'll do my best to hold myself to it. i hope you'll stick around for the entire journey!
> 
> thanks and have fun!

In the cells, there is no hope.

The glimmer of light that filters between the door’s seal is enough to make out the silhouette of his cellmate and trace the outline of the walls. There are shackles above them used for restriction when they prove themselves too much of a hassle for the guards: they are punished for “excessive” noise, aggression, or if they so much as look at the open door for too long.

(Don’t even think it, they’d been told.)

There’s no way to track time. If Keith were to guess, he would estimate that they have been in here for a month, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had only been a handful of days. As dark as it is, and as quiet as it is, he thinks it could feel much longer.

He’s taken to counting how many times the guards open the doors before he feels exhausted enough to sleep. Three. Twice for food—something hard and uncomfortable to eat that tastes strongly of dirt—and once to check behavior.

Shiro has escaped before, so Keith thinks he might be able to do the same with the right amount of wit.

Lance is beside him; he’s the only one in here with Keith. Keith had told him that it was a blessing, _y’know_ , that they were together, because they could plan an escape much easier as a unit, say if one is the distraction and the other overpowers the guards, but Lance hasn’t been himself for some time. He often sits with his knees to his chest, head down and expression unreadable.

When they’d first arrived, Lance was **fury**. He was indigence and justice and rebellion. Now, that fire that had been inside of Lance has seemed to wither almost entirely.

It’s the worst part about this situation.

Keith tries, often, to rally Lance into action, but with each passing hour, it grows harder and harder for even Keith to find his own hope. He wonders if he, too, will stop believing in their escape, but he knows that if he does, their fate will be sealed. He has to keep brainstorming. He has to keep trying.

“Lance,” he says softly against the darkness. “We’ll get out of here.”

Lance gives a grunt of acknowledgement.

“This isn’t over.”

Keith hears Lance move and feels the weight of his gaze. The silence echoes.

“We can still fight back.”

“Do you believe that?” Lance’s voice is hoarse. “I think you just say those things to make yourself feel better.”

A bitter taste reaches Keith’s tongue. “That’s not true.”

“So, what’s your grand master plan, Keith? Gonna bust us out with your Galra strength?” Lance recoils immediately. “Sorry…”

Keith swallows the bile and drops his shoulders. “No, I… I know why you’re upset.”

“But it isn’t your fault.”

It may not be his fault, but Keith feels as though there was more he should have done. More when they were captured. More when Shiro disappeared. More before…

He tips his chin, staring up at the limp shackles. They wave in the airlock, almost as if catching a light breeze. The metal clanks together, one heavy link knocking against another. _Wait_.

“Keith?”

“Do you think… these come off?”

“What?”

He stands, reaching towards the chain. His shoulders ache in protest. “Could we get these off?”

“Maybe?” Lance moves to stand at Keith’s side. “They had to get ‘em up there somehow.” He inspects Keith through his strained eyes and lowers his voice. “Why?”

Keith’s fingers thread through the metal chain. He gives a tug, testing, and purses his lips. Although he can’t reach the top to see how it attaches to the ceiling, he assumes Lance is correct—somehow, it must be hooked to an adapter.

“We should try to get them down.”

“Wha—”

“We could use them as weapons.” He turns to Lance, who, even through the darkness, visibly wears an expression of uncertainty.

“Okay, but what if they can hear us right now?”

“Don’t you think they’d come barging in if they knew we were planning something?” his voice is a harsh whisper. “We have to try.”

Lance worries his bottom lip. “I don’t want this to get worse for us.”

Keith can feel his irritation burn at Lance’s hopelessness. He lowers his hand back to his side. “What were you planning on doing? Rotting away in here? We can’t!”

“Keep your voice down!”

His hands clench into fists but he lowers his volume. “We have to _try_ , Lance.”

“I…” Lance turns his attention to the cold floor beneath his feet, “I just wanna make it out of this alive. I wanna go home, to _Earth_. I wanna see my family again.”

Keith’s fists unfurl. He exhales, and with the breath exits his anger. “I’ll get you there,” he hears himself saying before he can process his words. His heart pangs. “I’ll take you back to Earth.”

Lance is looking back at him now, a sad smile tugging across his face. “Yeah?”

The pain in Keith chest makes him uncomfortable. Lance misses his family, and of course he would rather be with them than here, held captive on an alien ship for an indefinite amount of time. _Home_. If that’s what Lance wants, then Keith will figure out how to get him there. He deserves that.

“Yeah.”

A _beep_ echoes through the room.

Keith grabs Lance by the wrist and leads him to the floor with a sharp tug and a hushed, “get down.” They situate themselves against the back wall and wince, in unison, at the abrasive light that filters through the open door.

The guard who walks in is burly, yellow eyes piercing.

“What are you two idiots up to?”

Neither speak, gazes cast down.

The tension is palpable while the guard inspects their cell. “Paladins of Voltron,” he’s murmuring to himself. “No one in here my worm couldn’t eat.” He stops in front of them. “You’re nothing, and whatever you think you can do about it, know that Zarkon will always win.”

Keith hears Lance’s breath shake.

 _He’s just trying to intimidate us_ , he wants to say, no, tries to project it into Lance’s mind. _Don’t listen to him._

The guard kicks Lance’s shoe and scoffs when Lance flinches away. “Just where you belong: cowering at the feet of a Galra soldier.”

\--and Keith never was good at controlling his temper.

“Some soldier.”

“What did you say to me?”

Keith doesn’t need to respond. Lance elbows him, giving him a warning stare from the corner of his eye, but the guard is already seizing Keith by the arm. “We should’a killed you. Zarkon seems to think you’d be more use alive, so thank your stars for that, you little brat,” his grip is a vice and Keith can’t help but squirm, “or I’d fell you where you stand.”

He’s yanked forward. The guard puts enough pressure against Keith’s skin to yield a yelp, and he smiles in his malevolence. “To teach you some manners, I’m putting you in the chains.” The guard regards Lance then, “you hear that? Learn from this one.”

Despite being unable to see Lance, Keith can feel his anxiety.

“Now then,” the guard is saying, raising Keith’s arms to slap the cuffs around his wrists. Keith’s shoulders stretch and the pain returns, but he closes his eyes to avoid giving the guard further satisfaction. “Think on your mistakes.”

The door slides closed with a hiss of hydraulics and darkness blankets them once more. It’s quiet again. Keith twists in an effort to seek Lance, but his eyes haven’t yet adapted and with only his toes against the floor, he can’t find enough traction to move.

Metal clanks together above him.

“Lance?”

“Why did you have to say something?” Keith can make out Lance as he stands. “Don’t you still hurt from the last time?”

Keith, for his part, remains silent.

“Oh, now you have nothing to say?”

His eyebrows draw together. He knows Lance is concerned but he doesn’t want a lecture. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Lance draws closer, reaching for the shackles. He gives them an experimental tug before turning his attention back to Keith. “I can lift you to get the tension off your shoulders.”

Keith gives a grateful hum.

“You’re so impulsive,” Lance tuts with a sigh. He bends then, hoisting Keith’s knees over his shoulders and straightens into a stand. “Geez, _and_ you’re heavy.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

They stay quiet for a moment as Lance finds his bearings by leaning his back against the wall for support. Keith leans back as well, tipping his hips back to ease pressure, and raising his eyes, he observes the shackles once more.

He gasps and Lance starts. “What? What’s going on?”

“I can reach,” and he can. Keith extends an arm and feels around for the adapter. There’s a piece of metal on the ceiling that’s welded closed—perhaps a hook of some sort—which undoubtedly will not open without tools. The base is square, held up by some sort of drilled screw, and that…

That could be their ticket.

“Well?”

There’s a hint of excitement in Lance’s tone that hasn’t been there in far too long. Keith can’t help but smile, his own heart buzzing. “If I can put enough pressure on it, I might be able to force it out.”

“Really?” Lance hops off the wall and Keith grapples at Lance’s head with a squawk.

“Hey!”

“Sorry!”

Reaching up again, Keith wraps the chain around his arm. (The bruise that’s surely beneath his clothes burns in protest but he wills himself to ignore the pain.) With a test tug, he gives himself a reaffirming nod. “I’m gonna start pulling.”

“Need help?”

“No, just keep me up here.”

Keith leans back and yanks with both hands. The metal resists. He yanks again with more confidence, clenching his teeth. Again, again, again, he pulls, but he stops when he feels Lance’s hand brush his own to grip the chain.

“Maybe an extra hand?”

Keith glances down and meets Lance’s eyes. He’s smiling at him, sincerity in gleaming enamel, and Keith feels a soft smile of his own quirk against his lips. “Alright, but keep your balance.”

The hand on his ankle tightens in preparation.

“One, two, three, pull!”

Both boys strain against a hard tug.

The metal creaks and clatters with a pop of release.

“Haha, _woo_ —ow!” Lance catches Keith’s arm to keep the chain from whipping him in the leg a second time. “Whoa, watch that thing!” Keith begins to reel it in and Lance tries to tip his head back to look up at him again. “So, what’s the plan from here? Do we get your other arm down?”

“Not with all the noise we made. We’d be lucky if no one comes in now.”

That seems to sober Lance, who hums a response and falls silent.

“We’ll get out of here.”

A telltale beep echoes and Lance tenses. Keith taps him on his head and hisses, “put me down,” to which Lance quickly lowers Keith back to the floor. Although only one foot can find purchase, Keith widens his stance and encircles the chain around his arm.

He’s ready.

“Leave this to me.”

The door slides open and in steps a guard. He meets Keith’s glare, takes in his posture, and starts to say, “what do you think you’re doing?” but the words don’t come. Keith whips the chain out and catches the guard in the temple. It connects to his helmet with a clang, and with the guard thrown off balance, Keith swings forward and grabs him by the shoulder. The guard topples forward as Keith thrusts up, kneeing him in the face. Bones crack. The guard’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Keith wraps him in his chain, effectively pinning him down. “Quick, get the keys,” he hisses, and Lance does. Keith notes that Lance also grabs the patrolmen's blaster. “Get me out of these chains and let’s get out of here fast.”

The key is a dongle that’s inserted into a small hole. It glows when it clicks into place, and Lance, although wearing a line of stress on his forehead, offers a quick grin. “You were so cool, Keith.”

Keith, for his part, just lets out a half-hearted, “shut up,” and tucks the chain behind the guard for good measure. “Alright,” he says then, reaching to grab Lance’s wrist and pull him towards the door, “c’mon.”

They flatten themselves against the corner and peek. There are two guards down the corridor, but they seem distracted by shouting from another cell. Keith nods and closes the door behind them. He and Lance then dart into the hallway and race to the next lip, ducking down where they can’t be seen.

“We need our suits.”

Lance mashes his lips together in thought. “They have to keep confiscated stuff around here somewhere, right?”

Keith takes a moment to observe his surroundings. They’re bathed in pale purple that lights their way in all directions. Doors line the walls—other cells, he notes—but there isn’t anything that seems to obviously house prisoners’ personal belongings. Had he really thought it would be plainly marked?

There are, however, the two guards.

Lance follows Keith’s gaze and looks back to him in understanding. Together, they stay low, stalking up behind the Galra. Keith raises his eyebrows and points at himself, mouthing, “follow my lead,” to which Lance gives a firm nod. Keith then counts down with his fingers from three.

_One!_

They spring up behind the soldiers. Keith grabs one of the Galra, and when he shouts, the other turns. Lance catches this one by the arms and Keith rams them together. Their heads slam against each other’s. Both collapse.

The paladins work quickly. They drag the soldiers around a corner and strip from their prison uniforms. The suits are large, but the helmets fit, and after feeling around, Keith manages to find a button that shrinks the armor.

Lance looks confused. Keith reaches around, tapping the button for Lance. It shrinks with a puff of air and startles Lance, but he offers a grateful hum when he settles back down. “Thanks, man.”

The alarms blare. The world flashes purple and red.

“Guess they noticed,” Lance says as he raises his stolen gun. “Time to go.”

Patrol bots flood the hallway, moving in from the docking station. Their heat sensors will find them; they have to think fast.

“Cover me!” Keith shouts. Lance’s protest drowns against the sound of gunfire.

Keith takes down the nearest bot and rips its hand off to steal its gun. Lance is already firing, precision shots missing Keith by millimeters and taking out bots who get too close.

The hand dangles off the back of the gun as Keith starts firing. “Follow me!”

With Lance at his side, they press forward.

Robotic limbs litter the ground behind them. Sparks crackle.

“We need a pod!”

“On it!” Lance hits a guard directly between the eyes and whirls around, taking out another who falls in a heap. “Clear!”

Keith slides past him and slams his hand against a scanner. A door opens.

**_Their ticket out._ **

“Get in!”

Another line of sentries turn the corner towards them and begin to blast. Lance returns fire. One, two, three, four hit the floor while he backpedals into the pod. “Keith, get us out of here!”

“I’m trying! I’m trying!”

He’s gritting his teeth, flipping switches until the engine roars to life. Behind him, he hears Lance take down several more, bodies clanging against the ground.

“Lance, hold onto something!”

The door begins to slide closed and Lance steps further in with one final shot. When it’s clear, he grabs onto the back of Keith’s chair. Keith doesn’t hesitate—he takes off, and Lance strains behind him.

“I forgot these were single passenger!” Lance is shouting.

“Just hold on! We need to get far enough away!”

Lance’s feet slide and he grapples for purchase. “Can’t you do that any faster?”

“ _Lance._ ”

The Galra ship fires at them. Keith pushes the escape pod to its maximum speed. It beeps in protest. “C’mon, c’mon, keep going…”

“Can we lose them in that rock formation?”

 _Yes!_ Keith turns the pod towards the asteroid belt. “Alright, this is gonna be rough!”

“Sure, I’ll just, y’know, hang on more than I already am!”

Keith grits his teeth. Another blast barely misses them. “It was your idea! And what do you want me to do? You can’t share the seat with me!”

“Scoot over and let me try!”

“Is now really the time—” Lance sharply shoves his hip into Keith’s to push him over. It’s incredibly uncomfortable. “Are you kidding?”

Lance points at the rocks with gusto. “Punch it, Keith!”

Keith opens his mouth but the words die on his tongue.

He pulls to pod into a spin and weaves through the rocks. When they’re far enough, he slows the pod down to coast. They’re small enough, he thinks, to vanish here for a time. The Galra ship ceases fire but moves in. Keith darts beneath the belt to cloak them out of sight.

“I can’t believe we did it,” Lance is saying as he slaps his hands on the dashboard. “We really did it!”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Keith,” Lance laughs. “We really just escaped a Galra prison. It was awesome!”

Despite himself, Keith smiles; Lance’s happiness spills warmth inside Keith’s chest. Lance is rightfully excited and, in truth, it _was_ pretty awesome.

“We’re a great team, buddy.”

Keith nods. “We are.”

“Dude, seriously, you’re so cool. You, like, just tackled robots and chained up that guard like it was nothing! How can you even do that? You’re a ninja!”

Keith feels his cheeks heat. “You were pretty cool, too. You never miss a shot.” A light smile reaches his face. “You really are our sharpshooter.”

Lance blushes.

Their gazes connect and for a moment, Keith forgets where they are—

—until an asteroid nearby explodes.

“Shit, they’re looking for us,” Keith pushes the pod and they take off.

Lance twists in an effort to see the Galra ship before scanning the area surrounding them. “If we keep them thinking we’re still there, we could land. There’s a planet up ahead.”

“I’ll get us there.”

Keith times his launch. The ship is breaking the asteroid belt in a series of blasts; he needs to escape when they’re focused elsewhere. He swallows, curling his fingers around the wheel.

He sees his opening.

The pod reaches maximum speed in 3.8 ticks, just quickly enough to get out before the Galra ships turns its sights further down. Lance is watching the ship to the best of his ability and Keith is grateful to have a second set of eyes.

The pod sputters.

“No, don’t stop now,” Keith growls.

The planet is growing larger and larger, burning a dusty red-orange beneath a halo of ash. They break the atmosphere and get lost in a gray haze.

“Is that…lava?” Lance tilts forward.

"Shit!"

An internal alarm flashes across the monitor.

"Keith?"

The engine fails.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, welcome back! first and foremost, i want to thank those who've left such kind reviews. i put my heart and soul into this fic so it means a lot that you'd take the time out of your day to tell me what you think. thank you again!
> 
> in this chapter you'll find a lot of airing out the dirty laundry. the boys will grow as people and learn how to work together a bit better. woo!
> 
> have fun and enjoy!

Lance clutches Keith’s elbow as the pod begins to shake violently against the gravitational pull.

It tilts into a nosedive and freefalls.

Lance squeezes harder in his panic. “What do we do? What do we do?”

Keith doesn’t respond. He’s focused, flipping switches and pulling on the steering in an effort to gain some semblance of control, yet the error message continues to flash across the monitor. He growls in his frustration. This is his fault. He’d pushed the tiny ship too hard, even when it warned him not to, and  _fuck_! He was  _such_  an idiot!

“Keith!”

He closes his eyes to steel himself before he turns to Lance. “We’re gonna have to jump!”

Lance, for his part, throws his attention out of the windshield and screeches, “from this height?”

“Do you wanna die in here?”

“No!”

Thank their stars the escape pod was built to accommodate a large Galra. Keith reaches around Lance and clicks the harness across both of them. They’re mashed together, side to side, but Keith thinks it will do; their combined width is still not Sendak-sized. Without thought, he slams the emergency button that forces the rear exit open. Pressure rushes through the pod and pops his ears until they ring against the whipping wind.

It takes physical power to lean forward against the vacuum, but Keith manages to grab a lever at his side. “Hold on!” he shouts, hoping Lance can hear him.

He pulls the lever with a  _click_.

In a flash, the seat is thrown back and released. They’re ejected into the air. Both ducking down with their eyes tightly closed, they grasp at the chair until their knuckles are white, and for a moment, Keith hearts drop in fear that the parachute won’t operate.

There’s a loud pop of gears behind the chair.

The parachute opens.

Keith swallows his relief. “You okay?”

Yet Lance doesn’t respond. His head is tilted back to stare at the parachute overhead, carrying them down gently on the wind. He seems in a daze—

Until the sound of a crash rouses him.

Their pod bursts in an explosion ahead of them. Pieces of metal like popcorn touch the sky and, holy hell, “that could’ve been us!” Lance looks a pallid sort of gray, although Keith considers that it may be the smoke. Lance, however, turns to face Keith and it’s awkward this close together—Keith squirms and turns his cheek.

“You saved us,” Lance is saying, “ _again_.”

“Let’s land before you say that.”

If Lance wants to argue, he remains suspiciously quiet, but his eyes stay fixed on Keith. It grows more and more uncomfortable, shoulder to shoulder, being stared at from only a handful of millimeters away, so Keith is all too keen on unbuckling them the moment they touch down on the uneven ground.

“Can I say it now?”

 _No_ , Keith almost says. He focuses instead on surveying the area. The lava they had seen spills across the volcano on the horizon, flowing in a heat of burning orange and red. Beneath them, the ground is black but solid, and behind them, the planet looks to be tropical.

“Um, excuse me? I’m praising you here!”

He turns to glance back at Lance and can’t help but smile. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to repeat it.”

“W-what? No! No way! I am  _not_  repeating myself! If you missed it, that’s your problem!” There isn’t any malice in Lance’s tone. “Besides, I praised you earlier. You don’t deserve more!”

Keith lets out a laugh. “Did you? I don’t remember.”

Lance sputters, “and you praised me!”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Lance looks offended as he clutches at his chest. “Why are you hurting me right now? I thought we had a thing going on!”

“A  _thing_?” Keith’s brows furrow and he snorts. “What thing?”

“Y’know, a mutual understanding. Keith and Lance. Lance and Keith. Escaping the Galra and adventuring into the unknown together!”

Keith, for his part, shakes his head in faux exasperation. “Maybe I should just leave you here.”

“Keith!” Lance tails him as Keith begins towards the trees. “Hey, don’t really leave me here!”

The flora spreads into the horizon and grows substantially thicker as far as they can see. Its lush greenery and unbearable heat create humidity that clings to their helmets in beads of condensation. The ground grows soft the further into the trees they trek, mud like glue sticking to their feet. Keith imagines the insects here would surely be prehistorically colossal, although he dreads seeing any in the flesh.

“Where are we going?” Lance asks, peering up at the umbrella of leaves blocking all but glimmers of twinkling light.

“Either to find some locals or a place to lay low,” he says.

Hopefully, not into the gaping mouth of a giant centipede.

They wander for a couple of hours in relative silence. Lance makes comments and observations every so often but otherwise busies himself with keeping lookout. He still has the blaster, Keith notes, that he’d taken from the guard, and Keith wishes he had a weapon of his own.

“Look!” Lance is pointing beyond a stream where a cave tunnels through the side of a hill. “We can make camp there," and they do.

When they finally sit, Keith becomes hyper aware that they haven’t any supplies nor a plan of action. They are on a planet they haven’t ever been to with no way of knowing if even the air quality will be safe to breathe.

Any residual adrenaline has vanished, and for the first time since their escape, Keith feels entirely defeated. He places his head in his hands and stares directly at his feet.

“You okay?”

He sighs. “No, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Find the others, right?”

Keith raises his eyes, staring at Lance who offers a glimmer of a smile.

“C’mon, man, don’t get down. We escaped prison, so now we just need to—”

“Get back to the Galra and figure out where they’re hiding everyone else?” Keith can’t help the annoyance that’s found its way into his voice. “How are we supposed to do that with the pod gone?”

Lance’s smile fades. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Quiet blankets them once more. Keith has found his way to his feet, pacing along the water bank. Stranded, he thinks, they’ll have to make due for the time being, but what if their oxygen supplies deplete? What about food? Most importantly, how will they find a ship?

Anxiety and frustration boil in the pit of his stomach.

There’s a tap-tap-tapping behind him, the sort that’s just aggravating enough to get on his nerves. It continues periodically. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap.

“Lance!” he whirls around. “Will you cut that out?”

Lance is staring at him, a rock in one hand and a stick in the other.

“What are you even doing?”

“Uh, what’s it look like?” and he says it as if it’s oh so obvious but offers no explanation until he notices the way that Keith’s eyes narrow. “I’m going fishing!”

Keith’s gaze drops to the water, then back to Lance. Keith idly notices Lance’s hair is looking disheveled, sticking up at odd angles from being beneath a helmet for such a long time and wait a **damn** second!

His heart freezes, skips a beat, and hammers before he realizes Lance is fine.

“Did…” _Quiznak_ , he feels like he’s short-circuiting as his voice progressively increases in volume, “did you take your helmet off?”

Lance rises. “There are plants here! And water! I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume there’s oxygen, too!”

“So you just took your helmet off and, what, hoped?”

“Yes, and you’re being ridiculous!”

“Me? You—” Keith throws up his hands. “You could’ve died! Suffocated or—”

“Okay, I get it! I was stupid and you worry about my tiny brain!”

He can feel the heat rise in his throat. “You _are_ stupid! What would I do if you—” he clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes shut for one fleeting moment.  _Fuck!_  “I promised,” he stomps closer to Lance, “that I would get you home, so don’t go getting yourself killed.”

Lance isn’t stupid. No, Keith doesn’t think he’s stupid at all. Quite the contrary; Lance is unnervingly observant and quick on his feet. Still, the flutter of fear Keith had felt? He could wring Lance’s neck for that.

And Lance, who studies Keith then, seems to receive the message. There’s a guilt in his eyes that grows more prominent while the defensive posture he’d taken deflates. “Sorry…”

Keith works his jaw and likewise loosens. “Just…please be careful.”

There’s a beat before a smile works across Lance’s lips. “Hey, I was the guinea pig and I’m alive, so you can take your helmet off, too.” He flashes a grin. “You’re really gonna need to so you can eat ‘cause we’re havin’ fish tonight, baby!” Reaching down to pick up the stick he’d been working on, he brandishes the impressive point towards Keith’s chest. “Ta da!”

Despite himself, Keith snorts a laugh. How can Lance brighten so easily? How can he remain so positive?

Warmth spreads through his heart.

“I’ve never harpooned a fish before,” Lance admits, twirling the stick between his fingers, “but how hard can it be?”

As it turns out, harpooning a fish is incredibly hard. They're fast, easily startled, and display no empathy for a would-be fisherman. Lance has been wading through the water for roughly twenty minutes, swearing under his breath every single time he misses, but he refuses to allow Keith to help. Any offer is met with vehemence because, as Lance so eloquently stated, “you can’t one up me this time!” so Keith does his duty and steps back to “let the magic happen.”

He takes to surveying their surroundings again. From here, he can make out the volcano they had seen upon arrival, although the view indicates they’ve traveled quite some distance. Keith also notices that there are colorful birdlike creatures that sit high in the treetops with elephant-esque trunks between their beady eyes. The alien animals seem to ignore them overall, minus the occasional glance when Lance splashes with particular vigor.

“Hah!”

Keith turns to Lance who whoops a cheer.

“I told you! I told you I’d do it and look!” he waves the stick around. “I caught one!”

Sure enough, on the tip of his makeshift spear is a still wriggling silver fish.

“It’s…kind of small.”

“What?” Lance looks positively affronted. “This beautiful fish is clearly a good eating size.” He gestures, comparing the fish to his hand. (They’re roughly the same size.)

“We’ll need at least one more of those, though.”  _Be nice_ , he reminds himself, and clears his throat. “I mean, you did a good job.”

Lance harrumphs and steps out of the water. “I did a great job, actually,” he says before pursing his lips. “Where…should I put this fish?”

“Um, I guess you could just put the stick in the ground, but we’ll need another one if we’re both gonna eat.”

His face visibly falls. “Aw, but it took me a while to make this one perfect.”

Keith nods solemnly then picks through the underbrush, extracting another, albeit slightly thicker, stick. “What about this one?”

“Let’s see.” Lance steps closer, bending to be eye level with the stick. He analyzes it carefully, brows drawn, and gives a long, curious hum. “Well, it’s not as good as the one I found,”—Keith rolls his eyes—“but it’ll do.”

“Great,” Keith deadpans. “Should I sharpen it?”

“Oh ho! Do you think you can do it as awesomely as I did?”

He knows that Lance is being a smartass. He knows this, but he still can’t help but feel the painful sting of comparison. He has to wrestle down the idea of throwing the stick at Lance’s head and manages instead to say, “it’s just sharpening a stick!”

“There’s an art to it! A finesse!” Lance waves his hands. “You can’t just beat it with a rock! You have to be patient and—”

“I can be patient!”

“You can’t even let me finish!” Without warning, Lance yanks the stick from Keith’s hand. “You know what? I’ll just do it myself!”

What the hell just happened? Keith’s shoulders raise and he has to drag his hand across his face to keep from letting loose a banshee scream. “Fine, whatever!”

Lance goes back to chipping away with the flat black rock he’d found, and Keith goes back to pacing. Alright, so they didn’t always get along incredibly well. Lance is dramatic and pushy, and he really seems to enjoy challenging Keith’s patience. He’s been this way since they first arrived at the castle. They managed to work together overtime and everything was smoother, to some degree, and sometimes Lance could even be…

Keith’s gaze slides to Lance, who stares intensely at his work.

He’s kind. Lance has a way of observing others and knowing what to say when he isn’t too busy being distracted by his own ego. He’s soft, emotionally, and he’s sensitive, but he hides it with false bravado. Keith actually doesn’t dislike Lance and he never really did, even in the beginning when Lance was set on hating literally everything about Keith. No, Keith sincerely enjoys Lance—usually—and sometimes, when they’re at their best, Keith feels his heart swell with affection.

Stupid Lance.

Keith blows at his bangs and drops down to sit beside him. “Why do you do that?”

“Because the stick has to be sharp enough to stab a fish.”

“Wha—no, not that.” Lance glances up at Keith, who takes a breath and pursues. “Why do you always have to fight me?”

Lance stops working on the stick.

“Not always, b-but sometimes. You just…I don’t know, it feels like you have to win against me all the time. I thought we were past that.”

It’s silent for a while. Lance is staring off, watching the water shimmer against the sunlight, but Keith’s eyes are on Lance. He’s watching for each twitch of emotion on Lance’s face; the way that his lips purse, and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

Finally, Lance speaks. “I guess I still wanna be as good as you are at things.”

Keith can feel the confusion on his face.

“You’re just really good at like, everything you do. You fight with swords like you’re a samurai and you lassoed that dude’s arm with a chain. That’s so cool, Keith. And you’re a great pilot. Some of the things you do when you fly? I don’t know, it’s like you’ve been doing this forever. You even managed to get in the Blade of Marmora and they’re not exactly outsider friendly.”

It seems, to Keith, that Lance has been holding that inside for quite a while. “You’re good at things.”

“Not like you.”

Keith frowns. “You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen.” Lance meets his gaze. “You’re also great with people. I…I think you’re good at different things than I am. You’re better at adapting—”

“You’re better at survival.”

“—and you’re really good at…” Keith gestures vaguely, searching, “this.”

“What?”

“This. What we’re doing.”

“Talking?”

“Yeah, talking.”

Lance actually laughs at that. “You are pretty lame with words.”

Keith huffs. “I’m trying!”

“I know,” and Lance smiles, and when he does, it’s gentle.

Keith’s heart flutters.

“I should get back to fishing,” Lance says then, moving to stand. “Do you know how to make a fire?”

Keith does. It’s a bit more difficult than it is on Earth, he finds, mainly because he can’t find the materials he needs, but after gathering dry wood and playing around with a few ideas while Lance splashes around behind him, Keith manages to finagle a fire by utilizing a shot from the blaster. It chars the ground and scares the hell out of Lance, but it works.

It takes Lance a while to get another fish but finally,  _finally_ , he’s victorious. He steps out of the stream with a slightly smaller fish and sits down, stick in hand, to start roasting it over the flames.

Keith plucks the other out of the ground and looks back at Lance. “Don’t you want the bigger one?”

Lance smiles at him. “Nah, you can have it.”

The silence that follows is comfortable for a while, but Keith breaks it with a soft, “we still have to figure out how to get off this planet.”

“We will.” Lance picks at his fish. “Do you think everyone else is okay?”

“I hope so,” he answers, although he likewise worries.

Lance’s leg bounces. “I wonder what they’re doing.”

“Honestly? I hope if they’re not planning their own escape, they’re sitting in a cell, not being bothered by anyone.” It’s better than the alternative.

“I hope Allura’s okay. I mean, she’s a princess. She’s probably a high priority target or something.”

 _Allura_. Now isn’t the time, he thinks, for his emotions to hurt him, but it still burns. No, Keith swallows back acidic jealousy and nods. “She’s strong. If anyone can handle it, Allura can.”

“You’re right,” and Lance falls quiet, staring into the fire.

Keith leans back against the mouth of the cave and rubs his thumb over his index finger. His mind is racing, tearing through scenarios, but planning isn’t his strongest suit. He acts on impulse; he’s reactive. There has to be something, though.

“We need the black lion back.”

Lance hums his agreement. “Sure, but doesn’t Zarkon have it?”

It won’t be easy, he doesn’t say, but Keith hears it all the same. “So we’ll need to figure out where he is.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get the red lion? Or even Blue, if she’ll take me back…”

“We don’t know where they are,” he taps his fingers on the ground. “Finding Zarkon would be easier.”

“But taking the black lion from him  _isn’t_  going to be easy.”

Keith sighs. “I know. Shiro managed once, and I know I’m not him, but maybe I can try.”

Lance tips his head and stares intensely. Keith shifts in discomfort. Then, quietly, Lance exhales a breath. “You compare yourself to Shiro a lot.”

That makes Keith even more uncomfortable.

“I look up to him, too,” Lance says without prompting. “I think everyone at the Garrison did. He was easily the best pilot there and he’s an awesome leader, then when he was picked for the Kerberos mission? No one was surprised. I mean, it seemed so obvious, you know?” He’s watching Keith in the same way Keith had done to him prior; he’s seeking reaction, and Keith notices. “I don’t blame you.”

Keith’s fingers continue to tap, his eyes closing briefly to steel himself, and when he feels sound enough, he says, “Shiro taught me everything, and he was there for me when no one else was. I want to…” he bites his lip and lets out a pained sigh, “I wanna make him proud.”

“I think he is,” Lance says and it takes Keith aback. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Keith blinks. Lance is… Lance is incredible at soothing his worries. He’s a comforting force, warm and empathetic, and Keith realizes, all at once—

Just how hard he’s fallen.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, support me with kudos if you enjoyed! i also love comments, if you so feel compelled! winkwonk
> 
> if you'd ever like to chat, you can find me on tumblr with the same name, @gunblade!
> 
> 'til next time!


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